


Warm Hands

by TrasBen



Series: Skeleton Shipping [13]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Cream (Undertale), Cross | Xtale Sans (Undertale), Dreamtale Dream (Undertale), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied Creammare (Undertale), M/M, Mentions of Dreamtale Nightmare (Undertale), Physical hurt/comfort, cross loves his boyfriends, does not follow canon dreamtale, dream wears a mask like its his job, for once, it kinda is, maybe too much, references to prior sexy times, this is also a lot of headcanons, this is me being nice to dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27331666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrasBen/pseuds/TrasBen
Summary: Cross has never noticed until now how often Dream wears his gloves.He learns why... as well as a few other interesting things.
Relationships: Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Series: Skeleton Shipping [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1403878
Comments: 27
Kudos: 132





	Warm Hands

The castle’s kitchen is mostly empty when Horror is gone, except for when Dust or Killer or someone else is in there grabbing leftovers or takeout from the fridge. Sometimes Nightmare makes coffee, or Cross will try and snag chocolate from the stash, but that’s it.

Or.

At least it _was_ it, until Dream moved in.

Dream doesn’t cook. Well, doesn’t cook _often._ Sometimes, if Horror is gone, Dream will potter about and make something simple for himself and the others. He’ll drop by Nightmare’s office with a plate and knock on the door lightly before inviting himself in, or by the training room if he knows some of the others will be in there.

That’s why Cross isn’t surprised when he hears sunny humming coming from the kitchen when he passes, spotting Dream’s figure at the stove as he stirs something.

For a minute, all Cross does is stand and stare, a pang of fondness running through his entire body. It’s like he’s possessed when he steps forward, striding across the room to hug Dream from behind.

The shorter skeleton’s humming resumes after a short pause, and he leans back into Cross’ rib cage. Cross buries his face into Dream’s hood and sighs.

“I felt you by the door.” Dream says idly.

Cross feels himself blush, and he tucks his skull tighter into Dream’s neck. “Sorry,” He muffles, “... need help?”

He feels the sigh as well as he hears it, Dream’s rib cage deflating in his grasp slowly. Dream brushes his nasal bone against Cross’ forehead where it’s still tucked into his cervical vertebrae.

“It’s no issue at all.” Dream tells him happily, “and, if you would, could you take this off the stove while I grab a tray?”

Cross reluctantly detached from Dream and lets the shorter go off to get whatever he needs. “Sure,” he says, “Where do you want - SHIT!”

Sharp, hot pain races through Cross’ hand as he jerks it away from the pot.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

Shit, that hurt like hell! Cross hadn’t realized the pot was going to be that hot, grabbing it by an unprotected section… _damn!_

Dream gasps, and he’s over in less than a second. He hovers worriedly. “What do you need?”

“It’s…” Cross swallows, “It’s nothing, I just burned myself.” He grimaces as he shows off the injured hand, which is turning an angry purple as flushed magic invades the wound to try and fix what it can. 

Dream makes an unhappy noise and gently takes Cross’ hurt hand into his own. “You’re hurt, it’s not _nothing_ …” He says plaintively.

Cross would be blushing if he wasn’t so focused on his hand, but he still has enough sense left in him to try and reassure Dream again. It’s a minor injury, really, it only hurts so badly because he was an idiot and grabbed the pot wrong… “It’s not that bad.” Cross murmurs, “really.”

“... Don’t lie.” Dream mumbles back, just as soft. “I know it hurts. You don’t have to lie.”

So Cross shuts up, because there’s no way he can deny Dream. Especially when he sounds like _that_. Worried and insistent and caring.

And he lets Dream lead him over to the sink after swiftly turning off the stove, so he can rinse the burn with cold water. Cross hisses, but doesn’t move a proverbial muscle as Dream works. 

  
He hadn’t been lying when he said it wasn’t that bad an injury. It’s a tiny burn, and as Dream rinses it, the pain lessens to something more dull, but still blares at the front of his mind. Cross has definitely had worse during his service to Nightmare, however burns weren’t a common injury he deals with.

“Stay here.” Dream orders after turning off the sink and shaking his hands.

Cross is a little bit hardwired to follow orders, so he stands in place and watches Dream fish around in the cabinet closest to the fridge. He pulls out a box with a big red cross on it. A first aid kit, then.

He swiftly comes back to Cross, a look of determination on his face.

The taller skeleton would protest, but…

Dream is already opening the kit, taking out some ointment for burns and a roll of bandages. So Cross stays quiet.

He can’t help but feel shocked when Dream starts to remove his gloves, though.

Dream probably feels it, _must_ , which is why he looks to Cross with a questioning look. Cross’ eye lights are still trained on the bare bones of Dream’s own hands. A rare sight.

“Is something wrong?” Dream asks. The taller skeleton’s pupils snap back up to Dream’s face, which is a mix of confusion and amusement.

Cross’ eye lights drift back down to Dream’s hands. “... No.” He replies after a beat, “It’s just, you’re always wearing your gloves, except…”

Well… the clear exception to that would be when they’re intimate. Maybe that’s why Cross can feel himself blushing. This association with the only other time he’s seen Dream without his gloves could prove to be problematic in the future, and it seems as though Dream is quickly realizing this.

It causes a small flush and smile to grow on Dream’s face as well.

“Well, I can’t very well help you with my gloves in the way.” He replies, almost coyly. But only a few seconds later, his grin drops a little at the edges and his eye lights haze over just a bit. His hands are hovering over Cross’, not quite touching. “But…”

Ever so slowly, Dream brings Cross’ hand into the protective cradle of his own. All at once, Cross’ soul feels fuller than before. The lights seem brighter, the kitchen more colorful. Cross can smell what Dream had been cooking and it’s _wonderful_ , everything is _wonderful_ \- 

Then, Dream drops Cross’ hands and the world is dull again. It had only been a second. Only a second, but Cross feels a little overwhelmed. He gasps when Dream’s touch leaves him.

“It’s stronger this way.” Dream says by way of explanation. Cross understands immediately. The magic that makes others react so positively in Dream’s presence must… get more overwhelming with direct touch.

Maybe that’s why Cross hadn’t noticed, before.

Lost in the throes of pleasure with Dream, _everything_ feels good. _Everything_ stands out as unique and extraordinary. And… Dream is looking at Cross guilty. Oh, oh no. That doesn’t work at all.

Cross scoops Dream’s hands into his own, nearly flinching at the pure rush of _good, and happy, and elation_ that runs through him. “... Tell me about it?” He rasps. It’s hard not to just try and press his body to Dream’s at the moment, to prolong and increase contact. Self discipline is one of Cross’ strongest skills, but even he is having difficulty restraining himself at this moment.

Dream looks away and pulls from Cross’ grasp, only to return a second later with the ointment in hand. He doesn’t look Cross in the eye sockets when he speaks. 

“If you’d like, I could.” He replies, lightly. But there’s something heavy underneath his placid tone. “My magic feeds on positivity, as you know.” Dream starts. He chances a quick glance upwards to gauge if Cross is paying attention, then resumes work.

“But it’s a bit more complicated than that. At all times, I am… projecting, a... small amount of magic outwards to the people near me. It acts as a magnifier to whatever positive emotions they may have, which I receive en stereo.” There’s a small sigh that escapes Cross at the lull in conversation, when Dream begins to apply the treatment.

Dream continues.

“It’s a positive feedback loop, and so I continue to give and receive magic. The closer I am to someone, the stronger the effects of this magic. Unfortunately, I am unable to disable this power, and when I touch someone… my magic is strongest without influence.” He sounds truely regretful, which strikes a note of melancholy in Cross himself. However, the feeling is soon swept away by the powerful wash of Dream’s magic.

“Could you make it stronger?” Cross asks, barely able to stop himself. He feels a little loopy from all of Dream’s attentiveness, whether it’s regular affection or due to his magical touch. But he’s curious.

In a second, Dream’s face flushes a bright gold. “I could, but, ah…” He giggles nervously, “It’s a bit overwhelming, I’m told.”

Cross thinks back to only a minute ago, when Dream had first touched him with his bare hands and imagines that feeling, only stronger, with more intent.

Ah.

He understands what Dream means.

But now Cross is considering even more possibilities of Dream’s magic. Nightmare’s, too. Dream hasn’t spoken of it, but there must be some other information there. 

… How had Cross gone for years without ever knowing this? First, serving under Nightmare, then, entering a relationship with the two guardians...

“Nightmare…” Cross trails, slightly unaware of how to follow the statement. Nightmare had never told him about any of this. Never even acknowledged his own magic and how it could affect him or the others.

Dream hums a little, and grabs the roll of bandages to start applying them to the injury. “He understandably doesn’t like to talk about our powers.” The guardian says, “In the past, they have often been misunderstood.”

Maybe that’s true. Cross still doesn’t understand exactly how Nightmare’s aura works. What effect it’s supposed to have. But, surely, if Dream’s makes others happy, then Nightmare’s must work oppositely?

“Does his… “ Cross shrugs his shoulders and makes a weird noise in the back of where his throat would be. Nightmare’s own aura is strange. Whenever he flexes his magic, Cross becomes… unpredictable. Even to himself.

He can become furious at the flip of a coin, anxious at others. He can feel jealousy or dread.

Dream looks to him questioningly, but realization seems to come over him all at once. His eye lights sharpen a little, and his grip on Cross’ hand tightens. “No.” He says shortly, sounding upset. “Nightmare’s magic doesn’t make you _sad_ or _angry_.”

Then, the tension bleeds out of Dream and he looks down again.

“Neither Nighty or I can _make_ you feel anything.” He murmurs, “We can only play on what feelings you already have. Nightmare’s magic draws your more volatile emotions towards the surface, where he can feed on them.”

“Oh.” Cross replies, feeling a little dumb.

Of course not. Cross knows _better_ than to assume that about Nightmare, and if the other were here to listen to what he had just asked… Cross knows he’d be hurt. Just like Dream is pretending not to be.

Perhaps Dream feels the sudden influx of guilt that lingers under the positive haze of his magic. Maybe that’s why he strokes over Cross’ knuckles and breathes out a small sigh through his nasal cavity.

“It’s alright, you didn’t know.” Dream tells him. “In the past… he has… the misunderstandings have not bode well for him. I was, I… I didn’t notice how the others had thought of him, and he would never tell me when he was hurting. I regret that most of all.”

Dream looks up at Cross with wide sockets, skeletal grin turned downwards at the edges. It’s a deeply worried look, one that debases Cross down to his pure admiration for the skeleton in front of him.

“Never hide it from me when you’re hurting. No matter how small.” He holds up Cross’ hurt hand, as if to prove a point.

Before he knows what he’s doing, Cross is nodding. Making a silent promise.

“Good.” Dream says, patting Cross’ newly bandaged hand. “You’re all fixed up.” He smiles at Cross, still slightly weary from the heavy topic they’d just been discussing, but pleased nonetheless.

Maybe it’s his admiration, affection, or unconscious need to regain the feeling of Dream’s warm touch, but Cross grabs Dream’s hands back up as he retracts them and holds them to his rib cage. “Thank you.”

Dream blushes and leans into Cross, who dips his skull to level his face with Dream’s and kisses him. “I love you.” Dream sighs into his mouth.

Cross returns the sentiment after nuzzling his nasal bone against his smaller lover’s. “I love you, too.”

When they separate, Dream puts his gloves back on. And… Cross is still a little curious. It’s hard not to be, when his datemates are immortal spirits. There’s so much he doesn’t know about them, and this has been an example of just how much he’s ignorant of.

There are centuries that had passed before he met them. There’d probably always be new stories for them to tell or experiences to share. 

It’s a little amazing.

“Is there anything else you can do with your magic?” Cross inquires, crossing his arms over his rib cage and leaning back up against the counter as he watches Dream transfer the cooling food to the tray he’d gotten.

“Wellll…” Dream trails musically, “That’s about it, but I can give you some tips and tid bits.”

Cross grunts his approval for Dream to continue, and the golden skeleton giggles.

“Nightmare feeds off of negative emotions, but he’s also able to relieve you of them in this way. If you need to be comforted, Nighty is the best one to go to. However… " The shorter skeleton's tone dips in a fond way, "I would not be upset if you decided to lay your worries with me as well.”

Cross thinks back to all the times he’d lost his temper in Nightmare’s presence, the oddly cathartic way that his frustrations were quickly drained.

He’s brought out of his little lapse in thinking by Dream’s voice once again. “He enjoys getting a rise out of you the most of all.” Dream chuckles, “It’s rather cute.”

Cross can feel himself flush and he scratches at his cheekbone bashfully as he looks away. It’s true, just a bit, that being around Nightmare makes him feel a little bit less in control of the emotions he tries to keep down.

Touching Dream feels good, _being_ touched by Dream feels good. Dream makes Cross feel _good_ , and it’s not as if Nightmare doesn’t, but it’s different. Less thought, more feeling. Doing what _feels_ right.

Between the two of them, Cross is well cared for. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Especially not when Dream brushes a skeleton kiss against his shoulder as he passes, carrying a full tray of food. “Would you like to come with me to drop this off by Nighty’s office ~ ?”

And that’s all the information Cross needs to follow behind Dream like a puppy, completely lost in how much he adores both of his lovers.

**Author's Note:**

> see. SEE. i can be nice to dream. he's in a loving relationship what more do you want from me,,
> 
> and NO the sunshine boye canNOT have a happy childhood its illegal in this house


End file.
